


Jobs

by Fyerluna



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Drabble, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-29
Updated: 2014-06-29
Packaged: 2018-02-06 16:19:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1864353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fyerluna/pseuds/Fyerluna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Carlsberg gets a new job. Cecil disapproves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jobs

**Author's Note:**

> Steve's design comes from isocil.tumblr.com

Smoke drifted in languid swirls through the warm morning air. Cecil had tried smoking when he was in Europe, but learned very quickly that it was not for him. It steadied his nerves just fine until he realized that it would be a dead giveaway to his position if he had to hide or worse; if he was not hiding but should have been. He touched the scar that had taught him that lesson absently.  
"Congratulations on the new job." Steve Carlsberg couldn't even be congratulatory right. He didn't sound the least bit happy or excited about Cecil's promotion to the voice of Night Vale. At least he offered a handshake.  
"Thank you." Cecil took his hand. He wasn't going to be impolite just because Steve had called him out to the middle of the Sand Wastes to exchange pleasantries that could have been expressed over the phone. Steve's right hand was missing parts of its ring and pinky fingers, likely from reeducation.  
"Looks like we're all getting new jobs. Earl is going to be scout master, you're the voice..." Steve fiddled with something silver in his left hand. He held it so the light would glint and shine in Cecil's eyes to attract his attention.  
"Is that-" Cecil could feel his heart skip a beat and his face pale. Only one person in Night Vale had that silver star.  
"You understand don't you? No one can know. No one can suspect." He looked Cecil in the eye. "I wish I could ask you not to hate me for this but you aren't going to remember this conversation and well... you're not going to be able to like me when we're done with you."  
Cecil's mind tried to process what was going on but by the time shock had begun to wear off a black hood slipped over his head and he was thrown into an unmarked black van.


End file.
